Today, I’m showing off the cover to my upcoming short story Wake Him With a Kiss. There will also be a pre-order link, and as usual, all pre-orders are 20% off.
Are you ready?
*drumroll*
When Lo is dragged into the tattoo shop by his bossy cousin, he steals everyoneās attention. The big man is afraid of needles but wants a tattoo to celebrate an important moment in his life. And he wants Amos to do it.
Tattoo artist Amos is mesmerized by Lo from the moment he lays eyes on him. Heās huge but kind, strong but gentle, and his frecklesā¦God, his freckles.
They hit it off immediately, but Lo grows nervous as the big moment approaches. Will Lo flee from the tattoo machine before they have time to get to know each other? Before they have the time to see if the sparks will turn into something more?
M/M Contemporary / 6926 words
Isn’t it gorgeous?? š And would you like an excerpt?
Lo looks around and leans close until his mouth is next to my ear. āIām scared shitless of needles.ā When he pulls back, his face is flaming red as though heās ashamed of his confession.
āHey. Come with me.ā I lead him to the tattoo chair and nudge him until he sits. Perched on the edge as though he fears itāll grow teeth and eat him.
I sit and roll my chair close. āLots of people are afraid of needles. Youāre not the first person to sit in this chair and be nervous. And youāre not gonna be the last.ā
āI know. Intellectually.ā His smile is gone now, and Iād do anything to get it back.
āBut your heart is still racing?ā
He nods. āIt seems stupid to expose yourself needlessly to something youāre afraid of.ā
āMaybe. Unless the fear is crippling and hinders your everyday life. Then it might be a good thing to desensitize yourself to it?ā
āYeah. Youāre right.ā
āAnd everyone is scared of something.ā
āWhat are you scared about?ā he asks.
āA lot of things. Iām scared Iāll go blind so I canāt keep doing my art anymore. Iām scared to hurt my hand in a way that would make it impossible for me to hold a tattoo machine or a paintbrush ever again. Iām scared of being alone for the rest of my life.ā
That makes him scowl at me. āWhy would you be alone for the rest of your life?ā
āBecause Iām a grumpy bastard?ā
āWeāve already established that youāre not.ā
āYou havenāt met me before Iāve had my first cup of coffee in the morning.ā
āTrue. Iāll let you know the verdict when I have.ā As I hoped, the back-and-forth smoothes the tense lines on his face, and by now the corners of his mouth are curled upward. I take his hand, gently, so he knows he can break free whenever he wants and guide it to the armrest.
āOh-ho? So youāre going to make sure Iām telling the truth? When is this fact-checking mission going to happen?ā I keep up the flirty banter as I prep his wrist.
āAt your earliest convenience.ā
I glance at him, happy to see his focus on my face and not what Iām doing, so I proceed by applying the stencil. āI bet youāre one of those disgustingly chipper morning people,ā I say.
āI am. What gave me away?ā
āYour sunny disposition.ā
He snorts. āSunny disposition? Thatās new.ā
āIf the shoe fitsā¦ā
āWell,ā he lowers his voice until itās a mere rumble. āMaybe thatās a good thing. This means I can be in charge of making your coffee in the mornings and you can take care of me when I fall asleep on our couch in the evenings. Weāll both benefit from our differences.ā
I chuckle. āHave we moved in together before weāve even been on a first date?ā
āI donāt know. Are you planning to take me out on a date?ā
Looking up, I meet his gaze. Two spots of bright red are painted on his cheeksāas though Iāve dipped my brush in crimson and swiped it on his faceādeepening and enhancing his freckles, making him more irresistible than ever. The tension still lingers in his shoulder, but other than that, his body is open and honest.
āWould you let me paint you?ā I blurt.
āNot if youāre a Picasso kind of painter. I donāt want to end up with a nose on my forehead.ā
I throw my head back and laugh and soon his laughter mixes with mine. Itās as deep and melodious as his speaking voice and it makes me grateful that Iām sitting or my knees would buckle underneath me.
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